


The Key to His Heart

by Eggsyobsessed



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet Ending, But Still Happy Ending Overall, Cat!Merlin, Cute, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Get together fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, POV Eggsy Unwin, Painter!Eggsy Unwin, Shapeshifting, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 11:36:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggsyobsessed/pseuds/Eggsyobsessed
Summary: A fairy tale type story of a man by the name of Gregory Merlin Churchel and how he found love with a one Eggsy Unwin, by announcing his eligibility for marriage with a game. A game that required a man to catch, and retrieve, the key to his home - located on his cat - with the promise they would wed.





	The Key to His Heart

**Author's Note:**

> https://eggsyobsessed.tumblr.com/post/186912790582/browntiger15-siniristiriita-story-idea-the
> 
> This is loosely based off of the above link. I saw it on tumblr and it just grabbed a hold of me and begged to be written.  
I hope you all enjoy.

It was a busy afternoon, as it usually was on a Friday, kids out of school, some with parents, others without. Often in search of items for a project, some adults for pleasure, other patrons around to buy an item to gift.

At Crafts N’ Things you could find an easel for a child who was eager to learn, maybe they wanted to paint, or learn to sketch. They had paper, canvas, an array of washable paints, and permanent too, all in vibrant colors, a gorgeous line of organic materials for the echo conscious buyers. Plenty of books on how to’s, even a few on the history of art, and some stencils as well. It was a pretty well rounded shop, one that showcased some of the owners art, as well.

A particular painting behind the register, one of a cat - who looked oddly like the one that followed the old man around - with a pretty black marbled collar, a shiny silver key hung from it.

“Like that, do you?” The owner asked. He was older, around late 60’s, maybe even his early 70’s, he had a wide grin that enhanced the wrinkles and crows feet surrounding his eyes. “It is an old thing,” he continued, when the little boy - who couldn’t have been older than 8 - didn’t answer and continued to stare. “Painted it myself,” he offered, and earned the attention from the child.

“It’s pretty,” the boy finally said, big brown eyes wide with wonder. “Looks like your cat,” he observed, eyes fell on the older, chubbier black and grey tabby who lounged comfortably on the counter.

It even had the same collar, too.

“He does, doesn’t he?” He smiled at the young man. “Where is your mum or dad?” he inquired, a child so young shouldn’t be left unattended, especially when the streets were so busy.

“My mummy is at the bakery next door. Need some art supplies for school,” he offered, before he went back to the painting. “A cat you owned?” he asked, and there was a knowing smile that came over the old man’s face.

He ran a palm along the feline in the shop, and turned to look up at the artwork. “In a way, yes. There is a story behind it.”

“A good story?” The boy perked up.

“A love story.” There was a twinkle in the older man’s blue-green eyes. “I have some time, and it looks like the rush is past us. Would you like to hear?” he wondered, always eager to pass on the tale to willing ears.

“Yes, please,” he agreed, his elbows barely reached the top of the counter as he lay them there and rested his chin on his forearms.

The shop owner leaned forward. “Have you ever heard of the man who could turn into a cat?” he asked, voice soft and held all of the mystery and magic in each word. He smiled when a sharp gasp left the young ones lips.

“No!” he answered.

“Well, then let me tell you about Gregory Churchel,” he started, and watched with delight as the boy seemed to hold onto every word.

\---

“Gregory who?” Eggsy asked, as he loaded another baking sheet into the oven.

His mum had picked up extra orders, and Eggsy offered to help in the bake shop. Easter was just around the corner, and everyone in town wanted a biscuit tray, pastry ring, or cake made by Michelle Baker, of Baker’s Best. It was the only good thing that came out of her marriage with Dean, that and Daisy. Who happily played with a mixing spoon, not so delicately dropping a dollop of dough onto the sheet.

Michelle continued to read the paper. “It says here that Gregory Churchel has announced his eligibility of marriage, to any man who can retrieve the key to his home.”

Eggsy snorted, and collected the haphazard tray Daisy had made, and kissed her head. “You did good, babe,” he approved, even if these would be taken home.

“Biscuits!” His 3 year old sister shouted, and shoved her little hand into the remainder of dough.

“Well, there goes that batch,” Eggsy said, in regard to the lost chocolate chip dough. “Finding a key to his home? What kind of hide and seek bull-” he stopped, caught his mother’s glare and corrected himself quickly, “-poop is that?” he finished.

“You said poop,” Daisy giggled.

“He did,” Michelle agreed. “And it isn’t hide and seek. Apparently there is a cat that roams the lands of his Manor, and it is located on the collar,” she explained, face scrunched as she finished the ad.

Eggsy hummed, not entirely interested in a bloke who thought of marriage as a game. It wasn’t until after his mother had discarded the paper for recycling, and went about icing a set of tulip cutouts, did it dawn on him.

“Churchel,” he said. “Like Churchel’s Electronics?” Eggsy’s tone rose a few octaves.

“I suppose,” Michelle shrugged, and ignored her son in favor to keep wandering hands out of frosting.

Eggsy gawked at his mum. “You suppose?” he squeaked. “He’s only like the richest, most eligible bachelor in the village. Let’s not forget that he only created the most efficient gaming console any one has seen.” He only dreamed he could afford it.

Not only was it energy efficient, built with recycled materials, but also had the best fucking graphics he had ever seen. He once had the chance to test it out, at the local game shop, and fell in love.

“Sounds like you’ve done your research,” Michelle stated. “You could join the game,” she offered lightly; Eggsy snorted. “What? You like that sort of thing.”

“I’m good, mum,” he said after a moment, and finished boxing the order for morning.

\---

The whole village vibrated with the news, and Eggsy honestly hadn’t understood the uproar. And sure, he was rich and all that, but what was the fun in marrying someone just for money. That certainly wasn’t what Eggsy wanted.

He ditched the flat early, was able to slip out before Dean could ask where was headed, and stopped at Jamal’s to gather the supplies he had stashed there. It was sad he couldn’t keep it in his own room, but Eggsy had saved enough to get something worth the money he paid. Eggsy took the small canvas, old brushes, and new paints he had purchased, to a clearing about 3 kilometers outside of the village.

There was a gorgeous, old Manor that seemed to have grown from the ground up. Ivy, vines and a few rose bushes climbed the old brick walls. He had come here a few other times, and wanted nothing more than to paint it.

A hobby he picked up before his dad, Lee Unwin, passed away in war. It had held on through his childhood, even when he had to hide it away from Dean, but it brought him peace.

Eggsy finished the structure of the Manor, when he heard a man shout. Nothing alarming in the tone, more an annoyance than anything, and then Eggsy saw him.

“Get back here!” Charlie Hesketh shouted, and a good few paces ahead of him ran a small feline.

He could admit the cat had speed, a lot faster than any other he’s seen around. Eggsy laughed to himself, clearly this could only be the cat that frequented this area, maybe it was Churchel’s pet; Eggsy thought to himself. He shook his head and went back to his work, as he ignored the half arsed attempts to catch an animal.

Everyday he had off Eggsy would go to the clearing, and slowly he finished the painting of the Manor. Some days he’d pack food, nothing big, just a bit of fruit, a sandwich, and some water.

It was comical, to say the least, how each day it seemed like a new man tried to trap the cat. One, by the name of Digby, had tried a trap with no luck. Another, his name was Rufus, actually thought he was clever enough to sneak up on the feline while asleep in a bush. But the cat was always better, faster, more clever than men who pursued it.

One evening, when another had come and failed, it had begun to rain and Eggsy quickly packed his belongings up. He was able to save the painting he had been working on, a specific tree just in the clearing, it had bloomed with pretty, delicate flowers - dogwood he remembered. Eggsy was just about to pass the drive up to the Manor when he heard a strangled cry, almost like a wounded animal.

Eggsy jogged up the path, and saw the black and grey tabby, who pawed at the closed door.

“Hello there,” Eggsy said gently. The cat hissed at him, back arched and tail puffed in defense. He wasn’t dumb enough to reach forward, and try to collect the silver key hung around it’s neck. So, he took the cloth he had over his canvas, and draped it between two rocks by the stoop, creating a makeshift shelter.

“There.” He waited until the feline crawled beneath it, a chill ran down his spine as a set of hazel eyes looked up at him, almost like they analyzed him. “Take care,” Eggsy bid the cat farewell, and walked off.

He used his jacket to shield his painting, and it only smudged a bit, but at least the cat would stay dry.

\---

“That was nice of him,” the young boy muttered, as he helped stock shelves with a new set of paint brushes the owner had got in.

Some were traditional made with wood, and others made with glass, pretty swirls of color wrapped around the handle.

“It was,” he agreed. “A good deed to be sure.”

The little boy, who’s name was Christopher the owner later learned, stepped beside him and waited patiently as he finished his work.

“Did Eggsy go back?” Christopher asked.

That twinkle returned to the older man’s eyes. “He did, and the cat was around, but lingered closer.” He sat on an overstuffed chair, located in a book nook he had created for children, his cat rested on his lap as Christopher took a spot on the plush carpet.

“Did he try to catch the cat, too?”

“He did not.”

\---

“Here,” his mum shoved a wicker basket in his hands, and gave a wink. “Take this with you,” she urged.

Eggsy took it, opened the lid and gasped. “Mum,” he sighed, a palm passed over the high quality canvas, new brushes and fresh paints. “How…?” he left the question unfinished.

“Dean may not know what you do, but I do,” she whispered smugly. “I had some money put aside, and I figured you’d like some new supplies.”

He put the basket down, and pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmured, afraid the tears in his eyes would betray him.

She kissed his cheek, and gently shoved him away. “Go paint me something pretty,” she smiled.

“I love you,” he swore, and kissed her goodbye.

His mum had even packed a few cherry pastries, they were his favorite, for him. The sun was high, warmed his skin all the way to his bones, as he journeyed towards the old Manor. It had been a solid month since anyone had tried to collect the cat, and he figured them smart for giving up.

That feline had no interest in being caught, and it seemed Mr. Churchel had no interest in being married, either.

Eggsy tapped the handle of the brush against the canvas, not sure what to paint. He had no desire to create another replica of the Manor, nor the trees surrounding the property. Eggsy could paint a portrait of Daisy from memory, but he had done that and it hung in his mother’s living room back home.

The soft patter of paws caught his attention, Eggsy was surprised to see the cat go to sit just a few paces away.

“Hello again,” he murmured, and could have sworn the cat gave a nod in greeting. Eggsy blinked his eyes a few times, just to be sure he was awake. “Do you mind if I paint you?” he asked suddenly.

Because it was a beautiful color. The black stripes a dark, almost onyx color, and greys various shades. Some a heather grey, others charcoal grey, all blended to create gorgeous stripes.

As if to answer him, the cat circled once - which showcased a set of balls - and lay with a paw crossed over the other. The silver key nestled perfectly against a white chest, and it was the first time Eggsy noticed the black marble collar around his neck.

“So you are a he,” Eggsy put together, and fuck there was that nod again. “Okay. Cat’s do not nod,” he stated, and could have sworn the cat smiled. “That’s not creepy,” he muttered to himself and got the makings out to paint the cat.

He took a break, after what felt like hours, to eat some of the treats his mum packed. Eggsy found a fruit tart at the bottom, and debated crumbling it up for birds, he did not care for them, when the cat left his spot and pawed Eggsy’s hand.

“You want?” he wondered, and okay the cat was for sure nodding. “Help yourself,” Eggsy offered, and broke it up better for eating. He had never known a cat to like fruit tarts, but apparently this one did. Eggsy got a better look at the collar, saw Merlin engraved on a tag beside the key.

“Merlin,” he smiled, as Merlin finished the tart licking up the bit of crumbs. “I’m Eggsy,” he informed the cat.

The hazel eyes blinked at him, in what Eggsy assumed to be acknowledgement, and he went on to finish the tart. Merlin returned to his earlier spot, and lay perfectly still. It was interesting that the feline stay motionless, more so than his 3 year old sister, and hadn’t even fallen asleep. Those same knowing eyes, and it was damn creepy because they looked like human eyes, stared at him, patient.

“I think that’s it for today,” Eggsy sighed, pleased. “Be here tomorrow?” And why the fuck was he speaking to a cat, like it were a person?

Merlin meowed in answer.

Eggsy went to pet him, but jerked his hand away when Merlin hissed, a guarded expression on the cat’s face.

“That’s cool,” Eggsy nodded, packed up and made the journey home.

\---

“What’s all the noise out there?” Eggsy wondered, and went out to the front to peer out a window.

There were people, not so discreetly, gawking at a man, who had to be in his late 40’s early 50’s. He looked like an ordinary bloke, dressed in beige trousers, a dark green jumper with brown leather patches over the shoulders, only thing that stood out was his bald, shiny head.

“Just a bloke,” Eggsy decided, and turned when a man beside him gasped in shock. “What?” He scrunched his face and looked back.

“That’s Gregory Churchel,” the man stated. “Haven’t you ever seen him? Only comes into the village a few times a year.”

Eggsy continued to stare, couldn’t put the face to memory, he had rarely seen pictures of the man. He had his advisor, Harry Hart, doing most of his promoting and public speaking. Either too modest, or too full of himself to make public appearances, but here he was.

“Rarely makes conversation when he comes around, he does. Bit unfriendly, but polite,” the man beside him went on. “That bullshit of a game he came up with. Most people would only want to marry him for his money, and not the stick up his arse attitude.”

He saw how Mr. Churchel easily dodged conversation, but to be fair Mrs. Hendricks would talk your ear off if you let her. Eggsy made the mistake of allowing the old bird to cage him, and his mum had waved at him from the butcher shop and not rescued him. Everyone knew to avoid her, and it seemed Mr. Churchel was a smart man.

“Maybe he’s bad with people,” Eggsy shrugged, because not everybody was a people person. “Hey. Why exactly would he put himself out there to be married, if he only socializes once a year?” He had to ask; it had bugged him since his mum read that article.

The man beside him shook his head. “Who knows. Maybe his advisor put him up to it, maybe he has family money that won’t be inherited unless he wed. Gregory Churchel is a mystery,” he concluded, and went back to his muffin and coffee.

Or maybe he was lonely, Eggsy left unsaid and headed back to finish frosting the cinnamon rolls he had baked.

\---

“I like mysteries,” Christopher offered, as he sketched in a book his mum had purchased.

She maneuvered around the shop, enjoying the story the old owner spun. She had heard it before, as a child. This shop had been here for decades, but you couldn’t tell as it recently had a facelift.

“So did Eggsy.”

“Think I know how the story ends,” he said, and looked up at the old man.

He smiled kindly at the child. “You do, do you?”

Christopher nodded his head, but went back to drawing. “Yeah. Bet Eggsy ends up with Mr. Churchel,” he offered.

The owner laughed, it was a bright, sunny sound and crinkled his whole face. “I guess you’ll have to wait till the end to find out, hm?”

The boy’s mum returned, sat on the carpet with him and pulled Christopher in her lap. “Pay attention, love,” she told him lightly, and loved the way the story still felt so magical, and soft as the owner told it, even if she knew the end, and truth behind it.

\---

The whole village had done nothing but speak of Gregory Churchel’s visit for three weeks, and perhaps it had to do with him coming back two days in a row. He had even stopped at the bakery, purchased some fruit tarts and was on his way. The customer, from the other day, was right. He was short, but polite when speaking.

Eggsy thought it was rude, how people spoke of him, judged him without even knowing who he really was, or why he didn’t come into the village often. Maybe he was an ill man, and really he appeared healthy - save for his pale as fuck skin - no issues to be seen by the eye. That also meant fuck all, in terms of what could be going on inside a person. He just figured him to be a shut in, someone who was done wrong by the world or just antisocial.

Whatever the reason, Eggsy didn’t try to figure it out, just continued with his usual routine, and even stopped by the Manor most days. A few times the cat wasn’t to be seen, Eggsy didn’t put too much thought into it and sketched one of the roses growing up the Manor.

It was another two days before he saw Merlin again, and the cat looked tired.

“Not sleeping well?” Eggsy asked, as he unpacked some pastries his mum gave him, and specifically asked for a fruit tart. He broke it up on a napkin, and lay it down for Merlin to reach.

“I brought one each day. Not sure if I’d see you again. Wasn’t positive someone had caught your stubborn arse,” Eggsy teased, and seriously the cat’s reactions to Eggsy were starting to become normal. Not that a cat snickering was normal; he kept this bit to himself.

A few moments of silence passed, as they both enjoyed their snacks. “Bet you were hiding because of all that shit with Churchel coming into town.” The cat perked up at that. “They walked around like he was on display, like some sort of side show freak no one has ever seen.” Eggsy was disgusted by the thought.

“He’s just a bloke, ain’t he?”

Merlin walked up to him and meowed, bumped his head to Eggsy’s hand and went back to his spot a few paces away.

Always kept his distance, Eggsy noted, a lot like his owner; Eggsy thought.

“I think he’s just lonely,” Eggsy mentioned after a bit, earning an ear perk from Merlin, his face thoughtful and interested. “Maybe been so alone doesn’t know how to people.” He didn’t notice Merlin inch closer. “Don’t tell no one, especially Churchel, figured he owns you, yeah? But, anyway, saw him over at the edge of the village. He helped Mrs. Frederick with her groceries. Knew no one else saw, and it was the end of my lunch, but saw him.” Eggsy smiled, because the man had walked all the way up the hill with her and he could have sworn saw him bring them into her home.

“Ain’t enough kind people like that around,” Eggsy figured, and was completely unaware when Merlin lay a paw on his arm. Eggsy reached out, absentmindedly, and gave his silky fur a few strokes. “Oh! And I had taken Daisy to the book shop, the last day we saw him, and bet he didn’t think anyone was looking when he lifted Billy up to retrieve the book he wanted. Bet Mr. Churchel tried to just get it himself, but Billy is stubborn and always insisting he do it himself. One of the kids that hang around our flat. He’s a bit older than Daisy, about 6, but cute kid.” He smiled to himself, because everyone had this interpretation of Gregory Churchel, but he was a kind person.

“He seemed nice enough, even if he’s a little clipped and gruff, but someone who is kind to kids is good in my book.” Merlin turned in his lap to expose his tummy; Eggsy stared down, shocked. “Aren’t you being friendly today,” he noted, and ran a palm along his stomach - a sign that the cat was completely comfortable. He didn’t miss, this time, how Merlin managed to wriggle and rub his face along Eggsy’s hand causing the key to bump him.

“I knew the deal,” Eggsy murmured. “But that ain’t in me. I’m not the kind of bloke who takes someones heart, without giving them a chance to decide I’m what they want.” His voice was soft, quiet, and there was something in the hazel eyes of the feline, almost like acceptance.

He scritched between Merlin’s ears. “I know you like me, but that don’t mean Churchel will,” Eggsy argued, and laughed when a paw met his face - it was a soft boop against his nose. “Don’t be a pest,” he chided.

A shrill of delightful warbles, meows and purrs sounded from Merlin, and it was like he turned into a kitten.

Eggsy took the loose strand, from the tea towel his mum wrapped the pastries in, of fabric and danced it around in air for Merlin to leap, jump and try to catch. He stayed out later than he normally would, the sun began to set by the time he decided it was time to go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Eggsy promised, and gave Merlin some farewell pets.

\---

Except tomorrow came and went and Eggsy never showed. He didn’t end up returning for the next week, and Merlin had become antsy. His feline senses were heightened, and he trotted into the village one day.

He had gotten caught on a bush, through his journey, and collar snapped off, but that could be worried about later. Merlin knew he needed to find Eggsy, make sure he was okay, he hadn’t ever cared if a human was okay.

Merlin came up two steps of the bakery, before being snatched, he went to scratch the man who held him; Charlie Hesketh, he recognized easily.

“No collar on you,” he noted. “Guess that means you are a stray.” Charlie got hold of his muzzle, before he could bite the bastard, and was carried to the local pound.

He meowed, clawed at the cage, and tried anything to get free, but Charlie just laughed in his face, and told the keeper he was feral. Feral cats got put down, Merlin knew.

\---

Eggsy was glad the black eye had healed enough he could use some cover up, and went to work. Turns out Dean didn’t like he was late last week, and earned himself a punch when he mouthed back, because Eggsy was a 25 year old man and didn’t have to answer to him. Apparently when you lived under his roof, Dean had other ideas. Eggsy had dipped out that night, and kipped on Jamal’s couch since.

“Come home,” his mum begged, as Eggsy worked the dough for cinnamon rolls.

“Nah, mum. I ain’t going back to that.” He hated to see her upset, but it was for the best.

Dean was good to mum and Daisy, but hated on Eggsy, and he figured it was because he was Lee’s son. No one was allowed to speak of Lee Unwin in the home, and Eggsy had photos of his Dad hidden, old ones when Eggsy was a baby.

Michelle nodded her head, and helped sprinkle some of the cinnamon-sugar mix into dough.

They worked in a comfortable silence, until the overhead bell rang. Eggsy touched the small of his mum’s back, and went to tend to the customer.

“What can I get started for you?” he wondered.

“Two apple turnovers,” Rufus replied, and continued to speak with the man with him - Digby, Eggsy remembered.

“Yeah, heard Charlie caught him this morning. No collar, or key on him but was for sure Churchel’s cat,” Digby said. “Supposed to be put down, I guess, told them he was feral.”

Eggsy nearly dropped their order, but composed himself to hand them off, take their money and give them change.

“Have a good day,” Eggsy smiled, it was tight, and as soon as they were gone Eggsy went into the back. “I’ll be gone for a minute, mum, be back,” he promised, and didn’t give much more explanation as he headed out the front door, and towards the pound.

He was thankful nothing in this village was more than a few shop doors away from one another, as he entered a little out of breath. Eggsy barged past a posh man, who stood at the front counter an eye-patch over the left eye, and said, “black and grey tabby cat. Mine. He here?”

“I beg your pardon, young man, but I was before you,” Posh man huffed. “Manners maketh man, now step aside so I can finish my business,” he hissed.

Eggsy took a few paces back, and watched with horror as Merlin was produced from a cage and handed to the posh man. He shoved forward again, and caught Merlin when he hopped towards him.

“He’s my cat,” Eggsy insisted, and giggled as Merlin licked his chin.

The shop owner cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Hart here has the cat’s collar and information proving the cat to be Mr. Churchel’s.”

Eggsy stopped, and looked up at Mr. Hart, who watched him with a scrutinizing brown eye. “Erm.” He was at a loss for words.

“If you please,” Mr. Hart pressed, rather impatiently. “Merlin, come along,” he managed to grab the cat from Eggsy.

He walked out, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, and waited for Mr. Hart to appear who was chiding the cat as the exited.

“Mr. Hart,” Eggsy said, and caught his attention.

“Ah, yes, Eggsy,” he smiled, a little kinder than before. “I’ve heard a bit about you,” he offered his hand, and Eggsy wanted to know what the fuck this bloke was on about.

“How do you know my name?” Eggsy ignored the hand, and Mr. Hart dropped it.

“Merlin has, I mean, Gregory has told me a bit about the lad who hangs around his garden with Merlin, here.”

Eggsy paled a few shades. “I hope it’s not unwelcome,” he stammered.

Mr. Hart grinned in return, and Eggsy saw Merlin sigh. “It is most welcome, to be sure,” he promised. “Oh, and you may call me Harry. I am Merlin’s, I mean, Gregory’s advisor among other things,” he informed him, and extended his hand again.

He took it, and noted how Harry had fucked up and called Mr. Churchel Merlin, twice.

“Now, if you excuse me. Merlin needs to be brought back home,” he nodded to Eggsy, and loaded into a Rolls-Royce before being driven off.

\---

“Does Eggsy know Merlin is Mr. Churchel?” Christopher asked.

“Why don’t you listen, Christopher and let him finish,” his mother tisked.

He smiled gently at the young one’s impatience. “A word of advice, even if you’ll only put it to use years later, patience is a virtue,” he winked, and continued.

\---

The summer was coming to an end, and Eggsy enjoyed the way the air had cooled. He hadn’t seen Merlin in a few days, but still ventured out to the gardens, and leaned against one of the many dogwood trees littered the valley.

He was content to listen to the trees bustle from wind, birds chirped in the distance, and allowed his eyes to close. Eggsy must have fallen asleep, because the sound of footsteps approaching had him snapping to attention. He nearly had a heart attack when Mr. Churchel came forward, dressed in a similar outfit he had seen him in that first day.

“Shit.” Eggsy clambered to his feet as he hastily picked up his painting supplies.

“Calm down,” he said, his voice softer than he remembered. It was deep, but gentle. “Ye do not need to leave,” he promised, and Eggsy caught the hint of a Scottish burr.

“Scottish?” Eggsy asked. The kind, hazel eyes creased with a small smile, and there was something so familiar about the color.

“Aye,” he agreed, and lowered himself to sit beside where Eggsy once was. “Don’t let me ruin yer nap,” he urged, a hand extended out in offering for Eggsy to return.

Eggsy took his spot, and watched, because fuck if he could take his eyes off of him and find sleep again; he was bloody gorgeous.

Merlin inhaled deeply, and seemed to melt against the trunk. “Thank ye for coming to rescue Merlin,” he said, after a long pause, his eyes closed.

“Sure,” Eggsy agreed easily. “He’s a good cat.”

Merlin chuckled, “There would be other people who would disagree with ye.”

Eggsy shrugged, and didn’t say anything for a moment. “He was a little standoffish at first, but warmed up nicely and seems to be a sweet cat. Who, by the way, likes fruit tarts. Never met a cat that liked fruit tarts.”

“They are tasty,” Merlin agreed, another long pause passed between them. “I’ve seen ye with him, he’s gotten close enough to ye and yet ye’ve never taken the key,” he observed, his eyes now open and gazed at Eggsy with interest. The same fucking interest his cat gave him, and that was weird.

“Shouldn’t it be your choice? And not some game to be played with.”

“It is my choice. It was my choice to place something so dear to me out in the open, and hope that someone could win the heart of my cat, because anyone he finds acceptable, is acceptable to me,” Merlin promised.

They were a little closer, close enough Eggsy could feel the heat of Merlin’s breath against his face.

“Am I acceptable, Gregory?” he wondered, and loved how wide Merlin’s grin was.

Merlin inched towards Eggsy a bit more, eyes gauging Eggsy all the while and how he would be received; Eggsy hoped his showed his acknowledgment. “Aye,” he breathed.

Their lips brushed against one another, the warmth of Merlin’s coursed through Eggsy’s blood, as he leaned all the way in for a firmer press, just as tender as the first but carried more weight in it.

He didn’t usually go around kissing the first bloke he met, but it was like Eggsy had known him longer than just an afternoon. And somehow, he ended up in Merlin’s lap, legs straddled his hips as they shared a few more delicate kisses, and a couple that left them both breathless, hungry for more.

\---

Each day Eggsy left the bake shop, and headed to Merlin’s Manor. He had yet to be inside, but that was okay, because the evenings were cool, but not too cool, and Merlin had shown with a duvet and some wine.

It was perfect, like their own little heaven. They were a mess of tangled limbs under the stars, and Eggsy turned to look at Merlin - who continued to watch the stars - when he had a thought.

“You know,” he murmured, a hand trailed under Merlin’s jumper to rub the smooth skin of his stomach. “I haven’t seen Merlin in a bit,” Eggsy noted, and felt Merlin shift to look at him.

“Ye miss the bugger?” Merlin asked, a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. “I can get him. If ye’d like,” he offered.

Eggsy laughed, it was a breathy sound. “I mean, not saying I don’t enjoy your company over his,” he confessed, and sighed as Merlin took his chin to tip his face up for a slow, tender kiss.

“Don’t worry. I know which ye prefer,” he assured him, before he stood and walked off.

But it wasn’t in the direction of the house, and Eggsy figured maybe Merlin romped around the grounds all of the time. He hummed to himself when a soft meow came up beside his head, and a sand-paper like tongue liked his hair.

“Oi, you little shit,” he exclaimed, and sat up to pull Merlin into a cuddle. “You’ve been hiding from me,” he accused, and earned a head boop to his chin. “Been spending time with Gregory, though I’m sure you know that,” Eggsy told him, and searched the space for said person. “Where did he go?” he wondered, and got up to look.

Merlin trotted beside him, and ended up leading Eggsy towards a pile of clothes...not just any clothes.

“Oh fuck!” Eggsy collected the articles of clothing. “Gregory!” he shouted, panicked. “Go find him, Merlin,” Eggsy ordered, and the cat looked like it was laughing at him. “Cat’s do not laugh! Gregory!”

There was an odd noise behind him, and Eggsy spun around to see Merlin...who was naked, and had a necklace around his neck with a key hung from it, and a tag.

“Why the fuck are you naked?” Eggsy asked when he found his voice. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

Merlin stood to come forward, and collected his pants and trousers.

Eggsy couldn’t help himself and noticed how well endowed Merlin was below the waist. “Gregory,” he whispered, begged. Because Eggsy felt like he was losing his fucking mind.

“I prefer Merlin,” he admitted, and left the shirt and jumper off. “It is my middle name,” he explained.

“You gave your cat your middle name? Bit weird, innit?”

Merlin smiled at him. “I am Merlin,” he said.

“Yeah, got that.” He was really fucking confused. “But you named your cat Merlin, your middle name,” he repeated.

“Eggsy,” he said softly, and took a step forward.

Eggsy held his hands up, shook his head quickly. “Merlin, if you tell me you are the fucking cat, I am going to have a mental breakdown.”

Merlin stopped and rocked back on his heels. “Okay. I won’t tell ye I am the cat,” he allowed.

It took Eggsy a full 10 minutes before he could speak again. “How?” his voice barely a whisper, and he didn’t know what was crazier. Merlin not saying he’s the cat, but really meant he’s the cat, or Eggsy actually believing this fuckery.

He shrugged, like that was an easy explanation. “Words, Merlin. I need some fucking words here,” Eggsy snapped, he could feel his patience slipping. Like the man he was falling madly in love with, wasn’t some nutter who claimed to be a fucking cat.

“I honestly don’t know. It runs in my family, that is all I know. It skips a generation, and because I have no children it will die off with me.”

Eggsy began to pace. “So, you are telling me that you, the bloke I am fucked over and in love with, can turn into a fucking cat?!” he shrieked, and pulled at his hair.

“Aye,” Merlin agreed, and watched Eggsy move about like a caged animal. “Do ye see now why I have to be sure the person I marry, allow into my life, be okay with my feline form?”

That had Eggsy halt all his movements. “I just thought you were some bloke who liked cats more than people! Like a crazy fucking cat lady!” Eggsy laughed hysterically, like this was some odd fucking dream and he’d wake up. “Not that my partner turns into a bloody fucking animal that pisses and shits in a bin of clay!”

“I actually use a spot around the house -”

Eggsy waved his hands in the air. “No, no. This is not happening. We are not discussing where your cat form defecates.” And the fact that he was going along with the shit show, was even more ridiculous.

He stood there, hands on hips and looked at Merlin. “Right. I’m going,” Eggsy decided, grabbed his things and walked off.

\---

Christopher gasped. “But he goes back, doesn’t he?” he worried.

“Sh, little one. Remember what I said about patience, yeah?”

“Right,” Christopher nodded.

The cat in the old man’s lap hopped off, and curled comfortably in Christopher’s.

“He likes you,” the owner noted. “Doesn’t always just lay on anyone.”

Christopher rubbed under the cat’s chin, and saw how his muzzle was more white than black and grey like the rest of his body.

“He’s old, isn’t he?” he wondered, and frowned when the cat glowered at him, but settled to nap anyway.

The old man laughed. “He is,” he agreed. “Now, we were where Eggsy just stormed off.”

\---

Merlin hadn’t changed into his cat form since, and Harry had taken note.

One evening, during tea out in the garden, Harry slammed his fist on the tabletop.

“Harry,” Merlin chided. “I thought you’d left the dramatics for yer husband,” he said, and took a sip of his tea.

“Are you going to go after him?” Harry demanded. “Because I am sick of you moping around the house. You are far more enjoyable as a damn cat, and you haven’t even done that.”

Merlin shrugged. “What is the sense? He found me repulsive, Harry.”

Harry ground his teeth, rolled his eyes. “You are a bloody fool. I don’t know how well I’d take the man I’m seeing turning into a fucking cat, and then back to human. You didn’t even warn the lad, just poof I’m a cat and oh by the way? I turn back into a person.” He crossed his arms, waited for Merlin to argue.

“Please, Harry,” Merlin sighed.

“No. I am not leaving this be. For once, in the 3 decades I’ve known you, you are happy. Were happy, and it was all because of Eggsy. Now you are going to just let him fuck off and not chase after him,” Harry shouted by the end.

He leveled a stare on his oldest friend. “He made it clear this wasn’t what he wanted,” Merlin replied coolly.

Harry tossed his hands up. “I hate you.”

Merlin dunked a biscuit in his tea. “No ye don’t.”

“Okay, so I don’t, but I hate the way you are acting. Just go, go see him.”

“No,” Merlin answered, and neither of them spoke of it after that.

\---

Eggsy wandered up the steps to the shop, and stopped. There was a box addressed to him, but no return address. He picked it up, noted it was a bit heavy, and walked into the shop headed to the back where his mum rolled out cutout dough.

“Hey, mum,” he kissed her cheek and set the box on the counter.

“What’s in that?” Michelle peered over, and went back to stamp pumpkin shaped cutters into the dough.

“Dunno,” he answered, as he donned an apron and helped her. Eggsy had a feeling he knew who it was from, and wasn’t in the mood to open it at the moment.

He didn’t actually get into the package until the end of the day, and sent his mum home with the promise he’d close up. It was after nine when he finally poured himself a cup of coffee, and looked at the flour dusted box. He might have made a bit of a mess, but shook the flour off and cut the top open.

Inside lay the most expensive paint brushes, in various sizes, and paints he had ever seen. There were even a few canvas in different sizes, and a note at the bottom. It was from Merlin, and asking for him to meet him at their spot when he received this.

Eggsy debated burning the lot of it, but that was some good quality shit and he’d be stupid to waste such gorgeous items. He boxed it all up, and shoved it under the counter; he wasn’t ready to see Merlin yet.

A week had passed, and Eggsy was beneath a counter looking for the ball Daisy had lost under it. He retrieved the pink ball, and noted the box under there, and dragged that out, too. Eggsy waited until nightfall, took the box and walked to Merlin’s.

He was surprised to find the man under their tree, gazing up at the sky.

“Why did you send these?” he asked, and allowed the box to fall beside Merlin with a thud. “That’s some expensive shit,” Eggsy reminded him, and flopped on the other side of the box, allowing it to create a barrier.

“Ye are talented, and deserve the best,” Merlin explained, like this were a simple fact.

Eggsy was about to accuse that he’d never seen his work, but swallowed the words. A long moment passed before Eggsy said, “You know this is the craziest thing, right?”

Merlin finally looked at him. “Aye, but there are very few people I trust with that information, and I trust ye.”

“You don’t know me,” he whispered. The smile Merlin gave him was gentle, utterly gorgeous, and Eggsy felt himself fall just a little more for him.

“But I do,” he countered. “I may not have gotten to know ye like this,” his hand swept over his body. “But I know ye.”

What felt like an eternity passed before Eggsy stood, a thoughtful air about him before he peered down at Merlin, and made a decision.

“Can you turn into a cat, Merlin?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Merlin watched him carefully for a second, got up and walked behind the tree to return as a cat.

“Come here,” Eggsy said, as he crouched and held his hand out.

The cat came over without hesitation, and Eggsy scooped him up, walked to the house and stopped at the front door. He took a few cleansing breaths, before he set Merlin down and unhooked the key from his neck. His hand shook as he placed the key into the lock, turned it, and gained access to the home.

Merlin ran past him, and waited on the other side of the threshold, just in the foyer, as Eggsy stepped through.

“Turn back?” Eggsy begged. And he was not at all prepared for Merlin to shift right in front of him; Eggsy felt faint.

A set of strong hands grasped his arms to steady him, and if he had almost passed out from witnessing Merlin change from cat to human, he would from how lightheaded the kiss Merlin lay on his lips made him feel. Eggsy felt like he’d float away, as he swooned from the sensation of Merlin all around him; hands in his hair, stroked down his back, cupped his arse.

They separated for air, Eggsy didn’t think he could pull oxygen back into his lungs quick enough.

“Marry me?” Merlin asked. “I love ye. Marry me, Eggsy.”

Eggsy felt weak, hands shook against Merlin’s chest. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed softly, before his breath was taken once more with a heated kiss, it carried a hunger that they hadn’t possessed before.

A yearning stirred low in his abdomen. “I’ll marry you,” he said properly, and was swept into Merlin’s arms and carried up to Merlin’s room, where very little talking was done and Eggsy had the best sex he’d ever had.

\---

“Did they marry?” Christopher asked. “And live happily ever after?”

“They did. They got married right under the dogwood tree the following spring, when it was in full bloom with delicate white flowers. And they lived happily ever after,” he promised, his eyes never left the cat in the boys lap.

“Alright, my darling. You’ve heard your story, now it’s time to go home,” Christopher’s mother told him, and stood when the doorbell rang overhead. “Daisy,” she smiled at the middle aged woman who walked in.

Her navy blue trousers covered in a light dusting of flour. “You are still here, Jeanine?” Daisy asked.

“Yes. Christopher was quite enchanted by the story Eggsy told,” Jeanine said, as she led Christopher to the door.

Christopher stopped to look back at Eggsy, who had moved behind the register. “Wait! You are Eggsy?” he gasped, and couldn’t ask more as his mother started to herd him out, but didn’t miss the wide grin and wink Eggsy gave him.

Daisy waited until they were gone to turn her accusing, bright blue eyes on her brother. “You are telling tales again, aren’t you?”

Eggsy blushed a bit, as he locked up the register. “It hurts no one,” he defended himself.

She shook her head fondly. “You tell it more ever since Merlin -”

“I know,” he interrupted her, his voice low and somber, and the cat rubbed between his legs giving a pitiful meow. He sobered up after a bit, and waved a hand dismissively. “I am old, and it makes me happy. Plus the kids like the story.”

Daisy softened some, as she came around to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you Saturday, okay?”

Eggsy nodded his head. “The kids coming this time?” he wondered, as he gathered his bag to leave.

They always had dinner together every Saturday, and Daisy always brought her children, who were grown now with their own.

“Yes. My own grandchildren love you more than me,” she laughed, and voice held no desolation from the thought.

He shrugged, and locked up the shop. “I’ll make fruit tarts for Isabella,” he told her.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Do you want me to give you a ride?” she asked, as she was about to get into her car.

Eggsy looked down at the cat beside him, and back at his sister. “No. It’s good for me, and him. He’s getting pudgier these days.” Eggsy ignored the eye-roll the cat gave him.

“Alright.” She got into her car and drove off.

He made the same 3 kilometer walk home, just as he had for decades, and it took him a little longer now, but Eggsy enjoyed the fresh air. He only had to pick up the feline about half a kilometer away from home, which was better than yesterday when it had been a kilometer.

“There,” he said, and set him down. “Home sweet home.” Eggsy ran a hand along the greying fur, it was more so than usual.

“You are showing your age more,” he told him, and broke up a fruit tart for him to eat. “Wish you could turn back, Merlin,” Eggsy murmured softly.

Merlin looked up at him, with the same hazel eyes that Eggsy’s loved for over 40 years, and ditched the remainder of his fruit tart to paw Eggsy’s trousers.

Eggsy bent down and scooped him up, Merlin bumped and rubbed his head against Eggsy’s chin. It had been 2 years since Merlin had turned into his cat form, and have never been able to turn back; Eggsy figured it was due to his age and not enough strength.

He sighed, and kissed the small, pink nose. “I love you anyway. Even if I have to scoop your shit,” Eggsy promised, and giggled when Merlin gave him a nip on the nose.

They settled in the front room, a low fire going and soft music playing. Merlin lounged on Eggsy’s afghan covered lap, and they both took an early evening snooze.

It wasn’t like it used to be, but they had one another still, and that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always welcome, and much appreciated.


End file.
